


Bells Shake the Sky

by MillicentCordelia



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers (Baby Steps), M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 17:43:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3578277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MillicentCordelia/pseuds/MillicentCordelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Gordon gets tired of being "that guy"-the one who sucks the air out of the room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bells Shake the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the "Gobblepot Grab Bag" event on Tumblr, and is dedicated to S-kcgo.  
> The Oriental Lilies referred to do exist, and are called "Lionheart Lilies".  
> Chronology-happens after episode 18

“Where didja want me to put these, Boss?” Gabe was carrying a voluminous arrangement of oriental lilies. “They just got delivered.”

“The bar will be fine.” Oswald limped over to examine the flowers; large, exotic blooms of such a dark blue violet as to appear almost black, with golden yellow tips and centers. “How extraordinary,” he murmured. “I wish I knew who sent them.” 

The first flowers had arrived the night of the club’s opening. Every two weeks since then, on Friday afternoon, another extravagant bouquet arrived. There was never a card, nor any hint of who the sender was. Oswald had thought the original bouquet a good luck token from Don Falcone- something to spruce the place up-but had since found out that wasn’t the case. Next, he got the uneasy feeling the flowers might have been sent with a curse attached-by Don Maroni, or even Fish in exile.

“Maybe you got a secret admiration, Boss,” Gabe offered helpfully. 

“Admirer, Gabriel, and I rather doubt it. “ Oswald shrugged. “Ah, well.....”

“Your mama’s gonna be admirin’ your tombstone if we don’t start drawing a better crowd on the weekends,” Butch interjected as he slapped a stack of papers on the bar. “We’re auditioning new acts starting in five minutes, and we’d sure as shit better come up with a crowd pleaser.”

“Coming, coming...” Oswald turned his full attention to the stage.

______________________________________

“So, you comin’ or not?” Harvey queried. “It ain’t payday but twice a month, partner.”

Jim finished tidying up his desk. “Nah, I’m tired. Think I’ll go home and veg out in front of the TV. You guys have fun.”

Harvey peered intently at the younger man. “You sure you’re not, like, depressed or somethin’ over Lee leavin’ town for that better job?”

“Not even a little. Saved me havin’ to break up with her.” Jim smiled ruefully. “She was cute, but she had several screws loose. Go have fun, Harvey. I’m having a happy fantasy about my sofa and some beers. Maybe I’ll go all out and order a pizza.”

He watched Harvey leave with a half dozen other cops; gave them time to move on, before he went to his car and drove to Bamonte’s. Upon arriving, he was ushered to a back room; where he was shortly joined by Salvatore Maroni. 

The big man was all smiles, as usual. He filled two glasses from a bottle of red wine that was sitting on the table. “Detective Gordon, I propose a toast-to the new president of the Police Union. “ They touched glasses and drank. “I got your message. What’s this urgent matter you needed to see me about? 

“It has to do with favors, Sal-may I call you Sal? Gotham runs on favors, as you well know-and now, I find that I need a favor from you. And you need one from me.” 

Maroni frowned. “What kind of favor do I need from you?”

“I’m a detective; I figure things out. I solve puzzles, find missing persons-like your daughter, Theresa. I understand she went missing from that fancy boarding school in Switzerland, about a week ago-right after her eighteenth birthday. You’ve been unable to find her. I know where she is.” Jim pulled a burner phone out of his pocket. “Would you like to speak with her?” He dialed a number; a man answered. Jim spoke to him in German; then handed the phone to Maroni.

“Papa?” a girlish voice asked.

“Thank God!” Maroni was sweating. “Theresa, where are you? Are you all right?”

“Papa, I’m fine. Honestly, I go on a little vacation and you’d think it was the end of civilization. I’m with my boyfriend, and before you say anything- I’m an adult now, I can do as I please. I’ll be back at school in a few days. I love you, Papa-good night.” She hung up.

Maroni sat motionless, in stunned silence.

“I understand your concern, Sal- young women of her age, are so naïve-so trusting, so stubborn, so romantic. This boyfriend of hers is an older man-an old army buddy of mine, in fact. He’s a mercenary now. Owed me a favor. No, don’t look at me like that-he’s not fucking her. I told him not to. He’s being a perfect gentleman, and he’ll take her back to school in a few days just like she said. I can even guarantee that she’ll never see him again-and in exchange, of course you’ll want to do a favor for me.” 

“And if I don’t want to do you a favor?” Sal’s face had darkened.

‘Well, then, who knows? My friend, left to his own devices-with no directions from me- let’s just say, I wouldn’t want my daughter left alone with him under those circumstances.”

“I had you all wrong, Gordon. You’re just like your old man. A real piece of work.” Maroni sat back in his chair. “So, what do you want?”

“You control the supply of liquor to the red light district. You’re making it difficult for Mr. Cobblepot to get Fish’s old nightclub back up and running. I want you to make it easy. Why? I owe Mr. Cobblepot a favor.” Jim sipped his wine. 

“I don’t suppose he had anything to do with you becoming president of the Police Union?”

“Not a thing.” Jim smiled pleasantly. 

“So what’d he do for you? Suck your dick?”

“As a matter of fact, he does that for me every day. At high noon, at the precinct. He gets on his knees under my desk, right in front of God and everybody. We’ve been drawing quite a crowd lately.” Jim kept smiling. “So what about my favor from you, Sal? You wanna suck my dick, too? Or you just wanna do what I asked about the booze?”

“You sorry assed son of a bitch-yeah, you’ll get what you want about the booze. And my daughter better be completely unharmed.”

“Oh, she’ll be fine. Of course I expect she’ll be madly in love with my friend for quite some time. So if you don’t want him to re-appear in her life, you’ll allow that booze to flow freely. We’ll all keep doing each other favors, and the world’ll be a beautiful place. Now if you’ll excuse me-I’ve kept you away from your restaurant long enough.” Jim sat his glass down. “Thanks for the wine.”

__________________________________________________

“Oswald’s”, for once, was doing a brisk business; the place was packed when Jim got there. He stood at the back of the club; spotted Oswald at the bar, chatting with a tall, dark-haired man who was being entirely too friendly-in Jim’s humble opinion. As Jim watched, Don Falcone swept in-with Victor Zsasz on his heels. Oswald excused himself, and retreated to his office with his “patron” and Zsasz. 

Jim walked over to the bar. “This seat taken?” He sat down before the dark haired man could say anything. “Wow, some place, yeah? My wife’s cousin runs it, his name’s Oswald. The owner is Don Falcone, that’s the big, tall guy who just came in.” Jim lowered his voice. “He’s a gangster, the old fashioned kind, you know, like Al Capone.”

“You don’t say?” The dark haired man seemed amused by Jim’s chatter. 

“Yep. And that other guy, the bald one? He’s a hit man. Name’s Victor. That’s Oswald’s boyfriend. Say, buddy, you all right?”

The dark haired man had choked on his drink.

Jim pounded him on the back and kept going. “Victor’s kinda weird, what can I say. My wife doesn’t like him. But he’s all right, as long as Oswald doesn’t make him jealous. He caught some guy flirtin’ with Oswald a few weeks ago-man, that was bad. They found parts of that guy all over town.”

A little while later, Don Falcone and Zsasz left, and Oswald returned to the bar. “James! I was just about to call you.” He looked around the room.

“Looking for someone?” Jim asked innocently. “There was a guy sitting next to me for a while; dark hair, looked like a male model. He left in a hurry-said his wife called and told him to get his butt home.”

“No matter. Come with me, let’s get away from this crowd.” Oswald led the way to his office.

Inside, Jim looked around. Everything was red, burgundy, black, or gilt; and if it wasn’t velvet, it was brocade. “Damn! Is your interior designer a vampire? Seriously, it looks like someone ate a whorehouse-and then threw it back up.” He sprawled across a red velvet sofa. “Comfy, though.”

Oswald poured something from a decanter, and handed Jim a drink. “Be serious for a moment, please. Don Maroni called me a little while ago. Told me there’d be no more problems with getting liquor for the club. He said you’d done my dirty work for me, then he hung up. What was all that about?” 

“Damned if I know. I’ve heard Maroni’s schizophrenic.”

Oswald looked at him sternly.

“Oh, all right.” Jim told him the whole story, laughing until tears ran down his cheeks. “And the best part is, I don’t even have a friend that’s a mercenary! My old army buddy is a private detective; he found out that Maroni’s daughter ran off for a vacation with her nineteen-year-old boyfriend, some kid who works in a coffee shop. My friend approached them, offered Theresa a thousand bucks if she’d go along with my scheme. Sal’s too cheap to give his daughter a decent allowance, so she jumped on it. How’s that for ironic?”

“What I don’t understand is...why did you do that?” Oswald looked mystified.

“Look, I owe you more than one favor. And I still feel guilty about...well. You know.” Jim suddenly looked embarrassed. “I acted like such a jackass when you invited me to the club opening. I felt guilty, coming to you for help with Flass, and I was angry at myself. I took it out on you, I was wrong to do that-you’ve never been anything but nice to me. I, uh, hope you can forgive me.”

Oswald looked at Jim as if he’d never seen him before. “Have you been sending me flowers?”

Jim turned red. “I might have. A few times. Did you like them?”

“I loved them. Now tell me: Who are you, and what have you done with James Gordon?” Oswald sat down next to Jim and stared at him. 

“The thing is, you don’t know me. Most people don’t. I’ve gone through life being so terrified of my own personality, I almost can’t remember who I am anymore. The James Gordon that I present to the world-he’s an unhappy bastard. I’m worn out with him, and I’m trying to figure out what to do about that.” Jim looked at his feet. “Maybe if you’re not busy later-you could drop by; where I live, I mean-and we could kick some ideas around.”

“Give me an hour; Butch can handle things here. I’d be more than happy to help you kick some ideas around.” He put his hand on Jim’s arm. “What are friends for?”

They walked together to the office door. Jim stopped, and impulsively put his arms around Oswald. “Call me when you get there. I’ll probably be on the roof; I like to go up there and look at the city at night.”

“Will do.”

Jim leaned over and whispered in his ear: “If you let me kiss you, I’ll show you my tattoos.” 

Oswald whispered back: “If you kiss me, I’ll hunt for those tattoos. And I’ll take my time.”

They were locked in an embrace, their mouths pressed together, when Butch pushed the door open. “Hey Oswald, we need some JESUS CHRIST, sorry!” Butch fled.

Jim sighed. “ I guess you better see what kind of ‘Jesus Christ Sorry” he needs.” They reluctantly separated. 

“Oswald kissed Jim’s cheek. “See you in a little while.”

______________________________________________

Jim sat on the roof of his apartment building; on one of the old plastic chairs he’d hauled up there. He was lost in thought, smoking an unfiltered Camel; writing something on a piece of paper.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

He knew the voice; it was Selina. She sat down nearby, dangling her legs over the edge of the roof. 

“I quit after I got out of the army,” he answered. “But I bought a pack of cigarettes the other day. I thought they might help me remember who I used to be.”

“Did it work?”

“I don’t know yet.” Jim took one last drag and dropped the cigarette butt in an empty glass. “But it hasn’t hurt. How’s Barbara?”

“Better. She’s not drinking all day long. She goes to the gallery. She goes out at night, sometimes. She seems happier.” 

“I’m glad. You know, I figured out why I was so drawn to Barbara. When I met her, she was a party girl. So alive, so vibrant, so much fun. The opposite of me. Once I got involved with her, all I did was bring her down. Me and my obsession with cleaning up Gotham.” He lit another cigarette. “I wasn’t always ‘that guy’. The one who sucks the air out of the room.”

“So how’d you get to be that way?”

“I tried so hard not to be my father. To be a good person, to do the right thing. I was so fixated on everything I was trying not to be, it became a full time job. I forgot how to relax, how to be kind to myself. I forgot how to be kind to others.”

“That sucks. What are you gonna do about it?”

“Fix what I can. Apologize for what I can’t fix. Try to re-learn how to be human. Cut myself some slack.”

Jim’s phone buzzed; he smiled. “My date’s waiting for me downstairs. You ok up here?”

Selina spread her arms wide and grinned. “Are you kidding? This is my domain! I’m the Queen of the Rooftops!”

After Jim left, she noticed something by the chair he’d been sitting in: it was what Jim had been writing on. She picked it up. It was an invitation that said “Oswald’s” on the front. It’d been torn in half; but someone had painstakingly glued it back together, and made it whole again. She read what was written on the back:

And when you appear  
all the rivers sound in my body,  
bells shake the sky, and a hymn fills the world.  
Only you and I,  
only you and I, my love,  
listen to it.  
-Pablo Neruda


End file.
